


It's Written on My Body

by captainhoran



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Memory Loss, POV First Person, Reality, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:20:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhoran/pseuds/captainhoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry awakens from a coma with amnesia. A first person account of Harry and Louis' relationship, and coming into it as an outsider to see the special bond they share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Written on My Body

**Author's Note:**

> The started off as a joke between me and my friend Gisell, "what if Harry woke up with amnesia and had to figure out who he was based on his tattoos he'd be so confused lol" 
> 
> but then i turned it into angst because i am satan

It’s like I’ve been asleep for years, how I feel. My eyes hardly want to open, they seem glued shut from time. The light seems foreign, like I’ve been hidden in darkness for too long. I look to my left and there’s a tall machine with green lines scrolling across the screen like a moving mountainscape. I look to my right and there’s an ugly curtain with tacky patterns creating a barrier between me and a dark shape on the other side. I look down and there are wires attached to my body at different points, and a needle sticking into my right arm.

 

Am I a robot? No, that’s science fiction. I take a deep breath and close my eyes again, welcoming the familiar darkness. I curl my fingers and my toes, reveling in the feel of movement. It’s then that I realize I don’t know who I am. And that’s when I begin to panic.

 

I’m in a hospital, that’s evident. I rattle my brain for more facts, coming up short besides simple things like how to ride a bike or how to tie my shoes. My back aches as though I’ve been on it for a long time. I raise my body slightly, looking around to see if there were any nurses about. I’m lost as to how to figure out my identity. Somehow, someone else telling me who I am feels... Wrong.

 

My eye catches a black spot on my left wrist, it’s in the shape of a padlock. Is this a tattoo? I lift up my left arm, examining the inked shapes that peppered it intricately. It looks like the symbol for the aquarius astrology sign, so perhaps I was born within that time period. There’s an arrow by the padlock, which only confuses me more. The words “I can’t change” are written across my wrist in all caps. What can’t I change?

 

My eyes travel up my arm to another phrase. “Things I can’t,” is scrawled on my forearm. So obviously change is still out of the question...  

 

“Won’t stop till we surrender,” I murmur to myself, letting my fingers trace over the words below an inked star. So many tattoos... Am I a punk rocker? Perhaps a baker, I think as I see an iced gem tattoo a bit further up. Or maybe even a pirate? There’s a large ship on bicep, next to a filled in black heart.

 

“Hi,” I read out loud, poking at the tattoo that reads the word. It seems so moot, but why does it feel so important? Everytime my eyes take in the two letter phrase of salutations, my mind is immediately transported to another word. But how does the word “hi” have anything even remotely to do with “oops?”

 

Am I Jewish? I ask myself again, taking in the hebrew word scrawled across my shoulder. I notice more black ink peeking out from beneath my hospital gown. As I reach for the collar to look at my chest, I hear a loud clattering that distracts me.

 

A nurse, about the age of twenty-two is standing there and staring at me with wide eyes. It’s evident that she’s dropped the clipboard she was holding when she saw me.

 

“You’re awake,” she says excitedly before running off in the opposite direction. It confuses me. Am I supposed to be asleep?

 

There’s a sudden silence in the hospital it seems, enough of a silence to hear the frantic whispers floating through the corridors. “Did you hear? Harry Styles is awake!”

 

My name is Harry Styles? It seems foreign, but it feels apt. My head suddenly feels like it’s splitting down the middle. I let my hands fly up to my face and I cringe into my palms as a way to numb the pain slightly. I let my head fall back on the pillow as nurses swarm around me, checking vitals and shooting pain medication into my IV.

 

I can feel myself slipping away again, the few shreds that I have left anyway. Darkness is creeping in on the edges of my vision, my head flails back and forth as I try to repel it. I don’t want to fall asleep again, not when it feels like I’ve missed so much out of the life I don’t even remember.

 

My body goes a bit numb as I feel my consciousness slipping again. My resistance is worthless as my eyes flutter closed, regardless of how fast my heart is beating.

 

Waking up is easier this time. The light is less intrusive, but still staggeringly bright. My body seems a bit less stiff, but it still hurts to turn my neck. I suddenly feel a hand on mine as someone next to my bed scrambles to get closer to me.

 

“Harry...” The voice is soft, and it doesn’t register. It’s an awful feeling, hearing the gentle voice and not being able to place it. I look over to the man standing next to me with a hopeful expression. His expression falters when I don’t respond to him, and it makes me feel even worse.

 

“Who are you...?” I ask delicately. I don’t want to see him sad. Not when I obviously mean something to him.

 

The man head looks up with a concerned expression. It’s then that I notice another figure in the room, reading over a few papers in his clipboard.

 

“Mr. Styles seems to be experiencing some memory loss. We’re not sure of the extent until he’s been put through a few tests.”

 

I tune out of the conversation between the two men, but I focus back on the one with his hand on mine. It’s warm, and I want it to seem familiar. But it doesn’t, and it leaves an empty feeling inside me. My eyes wander up from his hand to his arm, where he has a few tattoos of his own. I immediately lock onto the word that had flashed through my mind the last time I was awake.

 

“Oops,” I read aloud. It’s practically a whisper, but the man hears me and turns all of his attention on me. I decide to explain further, as I point. “Your tattoo.”

 

“Yes, Harry, see?” He grabs for my hand and I flinch back. The look on his face pangs my heart, and I willingly but carefully place my hand back in his. He holds my hand to his forearm where he lets my fingers trace over the ink. My hand moves on its own to the compass that’s etched into his skin, my brows furrow as the familiarity seeps into my fingertips. His skin is a territory that my hands have already explored it seems, I can feel the warmth that’s so homely and safe.

 

“I’m Louis,” he explains gently, his eyes watching mine as my fingers trace his tattoo. He grabs for my hand again, and I don’t flinch this time. He guides my finger to where the needle of the compass is pointing. “I’m home.”

 

I’m not sure why I start to cry, but I can’t stop it. Louis drops my hand and puts his hands on my face, frantically stroking my hair and uttering soothing words. It feels nice, but he’s still a stranger.

 

There’s a commotion in the entryway to my hospital room as someone walks in quickly. It’s a woman, and she stops short when she notices Louis so close to me and touching me gingerly. I push him away quickly, embarrassment shooting through my veins.

 

“Mum?” I ask softly.

 

“Baby...” She seems on the brink of tears as she walks to the other side of the bed, pulling me into a large hug. She smells nice, and it brings back a few memories from my childhood. They’re hazy and just out of my grasp. “I thought I lost you.”

 

“What do you mean?” Her words cause shock to numb my hands.

 

“Sweetheart, you were in a car crash. You’ve been in a coma for almost a month.”

 

“A month?” My mind calculates about how long that is silently. I can feel my heart race as I begin to panic. An entire month.

 

I flinch again as I feel Louis’ hand on my arm, moving away from him and toward my mum. I don’t want her to see my infatuation with the strange man. I don’t even know about myself yet, I don’t want her to know about me.

 

It’s a long afternoon of visits from people I’ve never even met before. They greet me with friendly smiles and laugh at inside jokes that I’m not a part of. They know my name, and they knew it before I did. They have a part of me inside of them that I’ve never seen before, that I’m not sure exists anymore.

 

I’m not sure where the sun is in the sky, but it feels like it’s fading by the time everyone leaves and it’s only Louis and my mum left. They’re whispering inaudibly, and I strain my ears to hear but it’s useless. I watch as they hug and mum kisses him on the cheek before saying a quick goodbye to me, planting a kiss on my forehead. She leaves and Louis walks back over to me, gazing down at me like it’s normal, like he’s done it a thousand times before.

 

“You’re not going to leave with her?” I ask innocently, a bit scared of the answer. I’m not sure if I want the stranger to leave.

 

“No, I’m going to stay here with you. As long as it takes, sweetie.” He takes my hand and I let him. My heart almost skips a beat when he kisses it before hugging it to his chest. “I love you.”

 

Those three words are lost to me as I watch them fall out of his mouth. It feels as if I’m stuck on an island, dying of thirst but all of the water around me isn’t drinkable. If only I could swim.

 

I take my hand back slowly, letting it rest on my stomach. I don’t return the phrase because I don’t like the way it feels on the tip of my tongue. It feels like a lie in the form of a truth. It pains me to see his ghostly smile fade away as I stay silent, and I feel a lump forming in my throat.

 

“Do you need anything?” He asks me. His voice seems to have taken on a professional demeanor and he stands up straighter.

 

“I’m actually kind of tired... Who knew sleeping for a month could tire someone out so much?” I joke casually, feeling a smile stretch out the corners of my mouth. Louis laughs at it and pats my hand. It feels more distant now, which is what I originally wanted. But now it just seems even more strange.

 

“Sweet dreams.” It looks like he’s about to lean in and kiss me, but then there’s recognition on his face and he backs away quickly before sitting down in the chair in the corner. He pulls out a black rectangle that I assume is a phone and begins tapping on it awkwardly.

 

I fall asleep quickly after I allow myself to relax. It seems like only a few moments later that I awaken to the sound of someone talking. I realize that Louis is talking on the phone, so I pretend to be unconscious.

 

“What if he never remembers me?” He asks someone on the other line. His voice is raw and pained. It sounds like he’s been crying. “I don’t think I’ll be able to live without him, Liam.”

 

My heart breaks as I listen to him. It’s a wretched feeling, but I don’t know how to fix it. He’s a stranger to me, how can I love him?

 

The next few day consist of tests and doctor after doctor, giving me prognosis after prognosis. It seems like forever before one finally says that I’m free to go home. But where’s home?

 

They put me in a wheelchair, which seems a bit arbitrary considering I’m going to be walking out anyway. Louis has brought me clothes and I feel like a human being once I’ve stood up and walk toward the man who is avidly arguing with a man at the door.

 

“No, I want them to get the fuck out of here,” he seethes in the man’s direction.

 

“I’m sorry, Louis, the hospital is a public place, I have no jurisdiction.”

 

“What’s wrong?” I ask with a raised brow. I clutch to the bag that holds the clothes I had apparently arrived in.

“Nothing, it’s just...” Louis looks like he’s at a loss for words. “There are going to be cameras out there wanting your picture.”

 

“Why?” I scoff. “I’m just a normal guy, aren’t I?”

 

“No, sweetie, you’re not.” Louis’ face crumples as he strokes my hand.

 

“I don’t understand.” I frown and kick at the floor.

 

“I’ll explain once we’re home,” he responds softly. It’s endearing the way he’s so careful with me. I almost feel like a child, even though it’s painfully obvious how much taller I am than him. “Are you ready?”

 

“Yes,” I say eagerly, itching to see the outside world again.

 

Louis nods and tucks me into his side, wrapping one protective arm around me. A spectrum of flashes blind him as he walks out onto the concrete front steps of the hospital. Words are being strewn from left to right, but I can’t catch any of them. My mind is in a frenzy and my face isn’t masking my fear. Louis is like a security blanket, pressed so close into my side.

 

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off,” he spits out at them before tucking me into the car and sitting next to me.

 

I’m sitting frighteningly still as I stare forward, shaking slightly. I’m still clutching to my bag with white knuckles.

 

“Are you okay, Harry?” His voice seems to be a million miles away.

 

“Who am I?” I ask without answering his question.

 

“It’s a really long story,” Louis says with a smirk. His mind seems to be lost in memory, and it aggravates me.

 

“Tell me,” I snap. “I’m tired of being an outsider to my own life.”

Louis nods and frowns slightly, setting a hand on my knee. I jerk away from him yet again, scooting away all the way to the other side of the car. I look out the window with a scowl.

 

“We’re in a band. Well, we were. Before your accident.” His voice is sad and strained. It takes a lot for me to care at that moment. “Biggest boyband in the world.”

 

“Boyband?” I turn back to him and raise a disbelieving eyebrow.

 

“Bigger than the Backstreet Boys and NSYNC combined.” Louis flashes me a smile that almost takes my breath away. Almost.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Yupp. We were on our second world tour, actually. There was a small break period and we went to your mum’s wedding. That’s the night we were hit by a drunk driver head-on. I escaped relatively unscathed, but you slipped into a coma.” He seems choked up by the end of the sentence. It dawns on me that I should comfort him, but that doesn’t seem comfortable for me.

 

The driver stops in front of a beautiful house that’s ornately decorated with flowers in the front garden. I’m too busy staring at it to realize that Louis has gotten out of the car until he shows up at my door and opens it. I awkwardly climb out and look at the front door. Louis gestures me forward before he waves the driver goodbye.

 

When I walk into the house I’m struck with a sense of familiarity that almost knocks me backward. Luckily Louis is there to catch me, but I shake him off quickly. I immediately begin to explore, fascinated by the pictures of me that I had no recollection of. My fingers trace lightly over photos of me and Louis. There’s a big frame above the fireplace in the living room that has both of them on the cover of a magazine. Big letters announce their relationship status as together. So that’s how we came out.

 

It’s not long before I’m sitting still on the couch, feeling like a stranger in what is supposedly my own home. My feet kick at the rug beneath the coffee table and my fingers pick at the loose thread on the chair of the couch. Louis comes in with a hot cup of tea and hands it to me gently. I’m not sure how I like my tea, but what he hands me seems to agree with my tastebuds so obviously Louis knew. My finger trails around the rim of the mug, jumping at the slight chip on one side. It seems like a lost memory that I could spend hours trying to reconstruct. Had I dropped it on the floor? Had it gotten chipped during a move? I would never know, and it left me feeling even more frustrated.

 

I set the mug on the coffee table aggressively, crossing my arms without a word. Louis looks down at me with concern before leaving quickly with an idea flickering on his face. He returns with a fancy laptop and sets it on the table.

 

“I’m going to show you something,” Louis explains, typing in the address for YouTube. Once the webpage loads, he types in a few words.

 

Millions of videos are found with two simple words, “One Direction.” Clearly this was my band’s name. I see my face in thumbnails for videos of interviews and performances. Louis clicks on one with a blue backdrop.

 

“This was your audition,” he says with a slight snicker. “Look at that silly scarf. Don’t worry, my outfit wasn’t much better.”

 

I watch as my sixteen-year-old self sings “Isn’t She Lovely” in A Capella. The judges say nice things to me when I’m done, sending me through. Louis clicks on another video after this, showing how our band was formed.

 

“It was pretty much history after that,” Louis says. He points in the background. “See us hugging there? We were so young.”

 

I sit still without saying a word as I stare at the screen, warm feelings filling my chest. I stop his hand as he begins to shut the laptop.

 

“Can I watch some more, please? Alone?” I ask gently.

 

“Of course.” Louis seems to revel in the feel of my hand on his and I take mine away when I notice. He stands and leaves me alone with the laptop.

 

I pull it onto my lap and click on videos on the side, going through XFactor performances and interviews from two and a half years they had had together. I spends hours filling in the gap with all of the videos he can. I comes across an interview for MuchMusic where the whole band is around two round tables. There’s a part where the interviewer asks about the two of us, and Louis casually puts his arm around me.

 

“They call us Larry Stylinson,” he says to the interviewer.

 

I exit the video and type “Larry Stylinson” into the YouTube search field. Hundreds of videos pop up at this action. They’re all fan videos put to music. I click on one and begin to watch, feeling my heart swell with every scene that flickers before me.

 

“Now kiss me, you fool,” I say before Louis leans in and I playfully push him away. There’s another scene where he does kiss me on the cheek. There are countless scenes from concert videos where our hands discreetly touch, or he whispers in my ear.

 

After a few more of these videos, I venture onto google. There are pictures of us out in public, along with articles from when we came out. I found a fan site that’s dedicated to our relationship. It weirds me out at first, the fact that someone had actually spent their time on this. I continue reading through the posts, regardless, interested in what they had to say about something I know nothing about.

 

“Larry is the only reason I believe in love,” one of the post reads. “If it weren’t for them, I might not be here today.”

 

I close the laptop after that, staring down at the apple that fades when it’s completely shut. My hand goes through my curls, a nervous habit it seems. I glance at the window and realize it’s dark outside.

 

I find Louis in the kitchen, making a sandwich.

 

“Oh, hey, Harry. I was just about to ask if you wanted one.” He smiles at me from where he’s standing, placing a piece of bread on top of the stack.

 

I don’t say anything again. I don’t know what to say, really. It’s hard to feel this way toward a stranger. But he’s not a stranger. He’s Louis. He had to lie for me for years before he finally got a break when we came out as a couple. It almost looked harder for him than me. I stayed silent in interviews while he did the talking. He was strong for me, and he’s still being strong this very moment.

 

It feels awkward, but I walk toward him and wrap my arms around him. My face is buried in the crook of his neck and I feel his body relax at my touch. His arms wrap around me in response, and his heat feels nice against mine. The beat of his heart is thumping against my chest and it almost feels familiar. Like a phantom of a memory is knocking on some sort of theoretical door in my head.

 

“I missed you so much, Harry,” he whispers, even though there’s no one around to hear.

 

“I don’t want you to have to anymore,” I admit.

 

It dawns on me once he lets me go from the hug that I don’t want him to, that all I really want is to make him happy. Memory is still dark to me, but emotion is washing over me like I remember everything. Perhaps the only memory I have left is the strongest thing I’ve ever felt in my life, and that’s my love for Louis. Also a flash of some app called Vine crosses my mind, but that’s nothing too important.

 

“I think I remember...” I begin after I realize that Louis is looking at me for more. “How this feels. How it’s supposed to feel, I mean.”

 

“Harry,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against mine. Having him close like this is like magic compared to how he felt just watching them on the laptop screen.

I pull away again, but only because I’m actually really hungry.

 

“I could go for a sandwich.”

 

Louis smiles widely, and I’m reminded of sunshine and other beautifully bright things. It strikes me as odd that I ever thought of him as a stranger, considering how easy it seemed to be with him even from the start. But it still seems new, and I can’t really remember, but I don’t think I’m very good with new things.

 

I eat the sandwich that Louis makes me gratefully, staring down at it as a distraction. My eyes wander to the clock on the microwave, and I only realize with the time how tired I am.

 

“Where... Where do I sleep?” I ask with a small voice.

 

“We have a guest bedroom if you’d feel more comfortable there...”

 

“Where do I usually sleep?”

 

“In our bed,” Louis says as if it’s a natural thing. Which I guess for him, it really is.

 

“Okay,” I say after a long moment of deliberation. “Show me where it is.”

 

I watch as Louis puts everything in the kitchen up in places that I don’t remember. I feel awkward as he walks toward me again. It looks like he wants to reach out to me, but I’m still too skittish to let him touch me again. Instead of touching me, he gestures toward the adjacent hallway and walks forward with me following slowly.

 

I can feel my heart beating a thousand miles per hour when I look into the room and see the large bed with an intricate pattern on the duvet. The fact that Louis has been sleeping here alone for a month crashes down on me when I walk into the room. There’s a mirror to my right and I catch my reflection. I’m drawn to the image that’s casted back at me. I really do look just like the person in the interviews and on stage. That’s really me. I poke at my face, at my dimples, and move my eyebrows with my fingers.

 

My eyes catch a glimpse of the wardrobe below the mirror. I open a drawer and sift through the articles of clothing before I find pajamas way down at the bottom. I assume these are my clothes, because Louis is sifting through his own dresser.

 

I notice an adjoining bathroom to the master bedroom. My eyes wander around as I stand there awkwardly, clutching to the pajamas. I walk to the bathroom and slowly close the door behind me. My face is looking back at me again, the large mirror above the sink doing nothing to hide my reflection. I take off the tee that I had been wearing, struck with the image of new tattoos I hadn’t had the chance to explore at the hospital. There are two birds on my chest above a giant butterfly. “17BLACK” is written on my left collarbone, and it strikes me as odd. Is it a password for something? I look down at my hip where I see a few words staring at me. It’s hard to read them upside down and backwards, but I manage to make out the words “might as well” followed by an ellipsis.

 

I shrug and decide to take the words to heart, slowly getting dressed in my pajamas and turning off the bathroom light behind me. Louis is already in his side of the bed with his arms crossed and staring down at the peaks his feet make. It takes me a second to move after that, my mind abuzz with how this isn’t normal for me.

 

I finally circle the bed and tuck myself in beneath the blanket. I stare at the ceiling for a few moments, assessing how I feel about the situation. My arms are beside me and if I move my right one even slightly I would be touching Louis. I can feel his body heat radiating toward me and it’s slightly unsettling.  

 

Louis shifts slightly in the bed and I find myself standing quickly. It’s too hard for me to be in this predicament.

 

“I’m going to sleep... In the guest bedroom,” I explain in a heavy tone. I’m not looking at him when I say this, because it’s too hard for me. I walk out of the room with a sad heart.

 

I get lost in the house which only causes me more frustration. When I’m finally safe in a bed of my own, I find myself crying inexplicably. Moonlight is trickling into the room in the cracks of the curtains, casting a silver line across my bed. I heave a breath as my mind reels, trying to think of a plan to make everything better.

 

Not just for me, but for Louis.

 

When I wake up the next morning, I’m struck with an idea of sheer brilliance. The silver line has been replaced with a bright gold with the rising sun. I get dressed after a quick shower, doing my hair like I’d seen me do in a YouTube video the previous evening. Another thing I remember from the videos, is an interview where I mention that I always do the cooking.

 

Cooking doesn’t sound like a hard feat, but when I get to the kitchen I’m lost as to where everything is. I don’t give up easily, and I find all the necessary equipment for omelettes after opening a few extra cabinets and drawers. I’m quite pleased with how they turn out in the end, grabbing a few plates that I’d run into while looking for a skillet. I place an omelette on each, looking up when I hear someone walking in.

 

Louis is still in his pajamas and rubbing his eyes in confusion. I skip over to him cheerfully and kiss him on the mouth.

 

“Morning, Boo,” I say with a smile. What I see next is probably the single most precious moment that I will ever hold close to my heart. Louis’ face is a mix of emotion; bliss, amazement, nostalgia, sadness, confusion, but most of all--Joy.

 

He breaks down in my arms, burying his face into my chest. I can feel his weeping tears soak into my shirt as he clings to it. He’s like a missing piece that I haven’t been missing at all. If the other Harry could feel like this, then I can too. Even if I have to use him as a disguise.

 

“I won’t leave you again, I promise.” I feel my voice crack as I speak into his hair. “Come on, then. The omelettes are getting cold.”

 

He nods, grabbing a plate and sitting down on a barstool to eat it. He can’t keep his eyes off me and it’s only slightly unsettling. I don’t have to think too much about my mannerisms, they seem to mirror the other Harry’s on their own. I call him the other Harry because to me, that’s who he is--not me.

 

After breakfast is through, Louis leaves to get ready for the day. I find myself on YouTube again, watching videos and analyzing my behavior. I scroll through my Twitter feed, watching old Vines and looking at my Instagram posts. There are loads of just me and Louis goofing off and being cute and couply. They make me smile the most.

 

I see thousands upon millions of tweets from my fans, asking about my recovery and concerned for my well-being. I decide to post a tweet for their benefit.

 

_Thank you for your tweets. I’m doing well .xx_

 

“Already on Twitter?” Louis asks, hugging me from behind the couch. He reads through some of the tweets with me, grunting at a few of the ones that insulted me. One of them even said they had wished I died in the crash. Louis reaches out and closes the laptop when he reads that one. I lean away from him when he tries to connect his lips at my earlobe, passing it off as just standing up to stretch.

 

“Can we go somewhere?” I ask.

 

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Louis picks at the back of the couch absently.

 

“Well, I’ve got to leave this house sometime, right? The doctor gave me a clean bill of health, didn’t he?”

 

“Yeah, but you’ll be mobbed by paps! And after yesterday...”

 

“As if I haven’t had to deal with paparazzi before.” I roll my eyes for affect, hoping he’d buy it.

 

“Okay.” He seems skeptical at first, but notices my firm stance.

 

“We can even call up Lou and Tom if you want,” I add for further proof that I remember everything. My guise seems to be working, because Louis slowly becomes more comfortable with the aspect of leaving the house.

 

“Alright, fine, we can go somewhere but I want it to be just the two of us,” he admits. I smile widely at him and nod.

 

I squint at the sunlight as I leave the house, wishing I knew where those Ray Bans sunglasses I used to Instagram so much were. I get in the passengers side of the Range Rover, sitting with my hands on my knees. I decide to reach up and click a button, pleasantly surprised to see a little compartment open with my sunglasses cradled safely inside. I take them down and put them on without making a fuss over it, because it’s a normal thing for other Harry.

 

“Where to?” Louis asks me as he puts on his seatbelt. I scrounge around in my head for ideas, but come up short.

 

“You decide,” I finally say.

 

He’s stuck in a moment of deliberation before he backs out of the driveway. It’s a nice and quiet drive, and I enjoy the warmth that seeps into my skin when Louis places his hand on mine as he drives. It sends a shock of electricity through me, and I feel like a schoolgirl that’s holding hands with her crush. I don’t think I could ever get over this feeling. I wonder if other Harry did.

 

The day is spent much like I’d expected from the candid photos of us I’d found on Google. It’s a bit weird for me, because I’m cataloguing it all in my memory as a first-time experience, but pretending like I’d done it all a million times before. The millions of camera flashes became more and more bearable as I became used to them.

 

They ask me countless questions that I don’t understand, or am unable to answer. Louis does most of the talking, keeping me away from them as much as he can. I feel  a rising in my chest every time he touches me even in the slightest way. It’s unnerving, and I’m terrified that he’s going to realize that it’s an act.

 

We end up at a restaurant called Rosso. Louis looks at me as if I’m supposed to be pleased about it, so I play along and pretend like I’ve been here countless times before. I stare down at the plate that’s brought to me. Garlic prawns. Other Harry has good taste in food, it seems. I devour them jovially.

 

When we’re leaving, I briefly notice a framed picture on the wall that has a picture of us standing next to each other. It makes me smile that Other Harry was able to spend times like these with Louis. But he’s mine now.

 

It’s dark outside now and the city lights dazzle me almost as much as Louis’ smile. Everytime I look at his face it’s like it’s for the first time again. Like I’m in a perpetual state of waking up with amnesia. It gives me butterflies in my stomach, and suddenly the large tattoo makes sense.

 

Louis holds my hand as we walk down the street, looking for the car that’s surrounded by lurking paparazzi. I’m beyond tired by the time I get back to the house I’m supposed to consider home, rubbing my eyes and yawning.

 

I forget that Louis is walking in with me momentarily, that we live together. What felt like a first date to me is something Other Harry has done a lot. I walk into the master bedroom without Louis, and I stare at the bed accusingly. I decide to walk away from the scene, not wanting to deal with that feat until it’s absolutely necessary.

 

Louis is in the living room, flipping through a few channels. I sit next to him on the couch, laying my head on his shoulder and closing my eyes at the warmth. He strokes my hair gently, paying attention to the telly. Feeling brave, my hands wander over his chest. I hook a finger in the collar, following up by tracing his collarbones.

 

It takes a moment before I realize that he’s looking at me now instead of the telly. His left hand reaches up to stroke my right cheek and I freeze. There are goosebumps lining the edge of my skin, and I know I’ve never felt this before. How Other Harry had stayed sane is a mystery to me, because I’m about to go out of my mind just keeping eye contact with Louis.

 

I know that this is supposed to be normal behavior between Louis and I, but I can feel my facade slipping as his face draws nearer to mine. I swallow hard, trying to make all of my nerves flutter away, but they stay fluttering in my stomach.

 

His lips brush lightly against mine, and my heart feels like it’s stopped. He presses his face further into mine, and I welcome him by putting my hands up the back of his shirt and exploring. His hands busied themselves in my hair, kissing me passionately and pushing me into a lying position on the couch.

 

His mouth moves to my neck, causing me to giggle slightly and jerk my head to the side. My legs are spread open, and his body is pressed hard against mine. I can feel his hips moving roughly, and I like the way it feels against me. He rises up and quickly takes off his shirt, revealing a tattoo on his chest. “It Is What It Is” is written across his collarbone, causing me to ponder the meaning behind it.

 

It almost distracts me enough to forget what’s happening, but I snap back into reality quickly. The nervousness in my stomach is only growing larger as I cope with the stress of pretending I know what I’m doing. It’s only a few seconds more of this before I lose it and push him off of me quickly.

 

I draw my knees into my chest and occupy a small corner of the couch, glancing over at him furtively.

 

“Harry, what’s wrong?” He places a hand on my shoulder but I shake it off violently.

 

“I’m not your fucking Harry, okay?” I finally admit in a yell. I can feel tears welling up as I rock back and forth slightly.

 

“I don’t get what you mean.”

 

“I lied,” I explain. “About being better. I’m not better at all.”

 

Louis turns off the telly and faces me, his hands placed on both of my knees. I let him do this, because I don’t hate him. I could never hate him.

 

“You still don’t remember.” It’s not a question, and it pains me to know that he knows now. Why couldn’t I just go through with it? I’m weak. I’m too weak to make him happy.

 

I simply shake my head no and look to the side in defeat. This is it. This is where he’s going to want nothing to do with me. This is where he’s going to tell me to leave. Because I’m not Other Harry. I don’t know who I am. I’m not Harry at all.

 

My eyes grow wide, causing a shocked tear to fall down my cheek when Louis kisses the other one softly. He takes all of me in his arms, resting his chin on my head and sighing sadly.

 

“You forgive me?” I ask quietly, leaning into him selfishly.

 

“For what?” Louis lets go of me and looks into my face with a confused expression.

 

“For not being your Harry.”

 

“You are my Harry, silly.” Louis is wearing a sad smile, and it’s hard to tell if he’s telling the truth. I don’t know his tells like Other Harry probably did. But I want to learn so badly.

 

“I might never be who you used to love.” My voice cracks as I say this, everything that I’ve been thinking over the last few days.

 

“You are him.”

 

“No, I just look like him.”

 

“I’m already in love with you, Harry. It’s you that has to fall in love with me,” Louis says sadly. I can see him swallow hard as he frowns at the ground. “Which might be impossible. I’m not even sure how I got you in the first place.”

 

“What?” I ask with an arched brow. “It’s obvious how I fell in love with you.”

 

“I don’t think I see what you mean.” Louis relaxes his position when I do as well.

 

“Well, I was watching those videos, right? Well, I could see it, you know? Everytime we looked at each other. I could see myself falling harder and harder. Just like I am now, and only after a few days.”

 

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, he just looks at me in the comfortable silence. It’s then that I realize how much I want him to be touching me. I may not be Other Harry, but the need is there. I feel bad for taking his boyfriend from him, but he’s here and he’s mine. He’s also still shirtless, which isn’t helping the situation at all.

 

I find myself kissing him frantically, taking off my shirt in the process. He stands and pulls me up with him, kissing me all the way to the bedroom, hitting a few walls on the way. My back lands on the soft bed that I had found so menacing before. I welcome it now as Louis unfastens my jeans with his mouth sucking at my v-line. It’s new and exciting, and I want to remember every last detail. My hands are resting on his hair as he goes down on me, causing my head to roll back further onto the mattress.

 

I feel his trail of kisses as he makes his way back to my mouth, pulling my jeans the rest of the way. He’s experienced and I’m not, but I almost like it this way. He takes control of me when I try to move in the wrong direction, pinning my wrists down and showing me what to do. My breath hitches as he kisses every inch of my body, leaving me sweaty and breathless. My hands explore him; his hair, his back, his chest, the edges of his lips.

 

I get lost in the feel of him pressed against me, and then I panic when I see him getting a condom out of the bedside table drawer. It’s only a slight panic, my heart palpitating just a bit out of rhythm. He assesses the look on my face quickly.

 

“We don’t have to... If you don’t want to,” he says gently, stroking the hair at the side of my face. He starts to put the condom away, but I stop him. I grab it from him, opening it up awkwardly. I hand it to him then, because I honestly don’t know what to do with it.

 

“Too late, it’s already open.”

 

He smirks at me, taking the condom and placing it on himself. He reaches back into the drawer, pulling out a bottle of clear liquid. I clench the sheet as I glance in between the ceiling and his face. I wince only slightly as I feel his finger inside of me. It’s uncomfortable, but still bearable.  

 

He aligns himself, hovering over me and staring into my eyes. He still seems unsure, so I nod at him with a determined smile. He lowers himself to kiss me again, just a soft peck of reassurance. My hands reach around his back, trying hard not to dig my nails into it as he pushes himself into me. I’m not sure what to expect, really, I didn’t even get a chance to look stuff like this up.

 

The pain subsides as fast as it starts, and I realize that my body is used to this kind of behavior. It’s funny, because even though I don’t really know anyone besides Louis and the few people I’d met at the hospital, I know that I don’t want to do anything like this with anyone else.

 

I think there’s a part of me that remembers this slightly, the way he makes me feel. Only him, only Louis. I’m not his Harry, but I’m Harry. I might not be able to learn how to be that Other Harry, but I think I like it better like this. I just hope Louis feels the same way. I hope that he can accept me despite my obvious flaws. Despite the fact that I can’t remember any anniversary, special moment, or anything else really.

 

My worries subside quickly as I feel myself drawing closer to an orgasm, and my vocal chords let out a guttural sound of want and frenzy. My toes curl, and my nails involuntarily dig into his back as I climax for what feels like the first time.

 

Louis’ body relaxes and he falls on top of me, nestling his head into the crook of my neck. I’m breathing hard, but I can’t help but smile as I let out an exasperated laugh. Louis laughs too, tickling my neck. He lifts his head up again, connecting our lips gingerly.

 

“That was your first time, wasn’t it?” Louis asks with a guffaw.

 

“Virginity stealer,” I accuse, grabbing ahold of him and flipping him over so I can give him a large hickey on his neck.

 

“Do you often fuck on the first date?” He giggles, and I punch him.

 

We tuck ourselves in beneath the covers, and I find myself frowning at his breathtakingly beautiful face.

 

“I’m sorry you have to start over,” I confess, propping my head up on my elbow.

 

“It’s not your fault,” he responds, stroking my hair and smiling at me. “Besides, now you can’t bring up little things I’ve done in the past that pissed you off.”

 

I laugh at this, wondering what he could be talking about. He seems too perfect to have done anything wrong. Remembering that I don’t remember causes my face to fall again.

 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll say something to piss you off again,” he says when he notices. He grabs onto me and pulls me into his chest. “I’m not letting you go anywhere. You’re mine. That’s all you need to remember.”

 

I’m sure he can feel my tears on his bare chest, but I don’t care.

 

“I’m glad I woke up to you,” I say truthfully. “I can’t imagine anyone else.”

 

“Good. Imagine if you’d woken up to Niall.”

 

“Oh, god.”

 

We both laugh and I feel myself forgetting that I’ve forgotten that I hadn’t done this a million times before. I fall asleep in his arms for the first time, reveling in how secure it feels.

 

I never fully remember who I am. YouTube only helps so much, and the holes are still there. My life with Louis is perfect, sure, but I know there’s so much that I’ve missed out on. I do my best to make every moment memorable from then on. Because I never want to forget again.

 


End file.
